


Half A Flagon

by Cesarinna



Category: Original Work, Sapphire; Color Of The Sea
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Hurt No Comfort, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Mistress, Non-Sexual Submission, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Past Violence, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Service Submission, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Woman on Top, and then there's straight up sexual submission, literally just a woman making her slave boy suffer, the feelings are sadness and pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22825675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesarinna/pseuds/Cesarinna
Summary: Sapphire is a slave. He thought he escaped the sex trade when he was put in the hands of his new mistress. He was wrong. She may be the worst owner he's had yet.
Relationships: Sapphire/Vysehna
Comments: 26
Kudos: 59





	Half A Flagon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tak138](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tak138/gifts).



“Sapphire,” snapped his mistress, “Matthias’ wine glass is empty. Aren’t you paying attention?” 

Lord Matthias leaned back in his chair and stretched. A sliver of his belly showed as his half-unbuttoned tunic rose up. His belt was haphazardly shoved through the loops, missing a few. Seeing how put-together his mistress was, Sapphire hadn’t expected her friend to be so… unkempt. 

He wasn’t accustomed to unkempt people. After so many years in the service of the king, he had grown used to tucked-in shirts under expensive coats. Each time he passed a group of loud and burly sailors, he winced. 

It was his life now, the property of the king’s niece after the king discarded him like a stained napkin. He would have to get used to living on a ship if he was to serve her properly. And he did want to serve her. She was detached, indifferent. A kindness, compared to his previous masters. 

Lord Matthias burped. “I don’t think I need any more, Vys.” 

She waved her hand, dismissing his protests. “Yes, you do. We may die of boredom if the captain doesn’t arrive soon. What the fuck is taking him so long? We agreed to meet over fifteen minutes ago.”

She set her own glass down gently, tapping at the corners of her mouth with a silk napkin. 

His mistress had the mouth of a sailor and the elegant manners of a noble lady. It was quite disjointing to watch sometimes. 

Sapphire picked up the flagon of wine from an end table on the other side of the room. He bit back the urge to vomit. He wasn’t used to the gentle rocking of the ship like Lord Matthias and his mistress were. The two of them had all but grown up on the sea together, from what he’d heard. He overheard the slaves exchanging rumors. 

His foot caught the edge of a rug and he tumbled forward. The wine sloshed out of the pitcher in messy splashes. Lord Matthias sputtered, mouth open and eyes closed in shock, the spirits running down from his hair to his thighs. 

“I’m so sorry!” he cried, rushing to grab something to soak up the mess. “My Lord, I didn’t mean to. I-I’ll clean it up and I’ll get you a new shirt and I—” 

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Lord Matthias chuckled. “It’s just some wine. And I’ve told you before, don’t call me lord. I ain’t one.” 

The flagon was only half full, but it looked like he’d emptied an entire barrel on him. It was everywhere, soaking into the chair, dripping on the rug. Captain Rainier took his dinner in his office once in a while. He snatched a stack of cotton napkins from the captain’s desk, praying that he wouldn’t mind. 

He dabbed the napkin on Lord Matthias’ shirt, but did nothing for the stain. His mistress was going to cane him again. She was going to kill him. She was going to throw him off the side of the ship. Not only did he fail to fill their cups when it was the only task she gave him, he made a disaster of everything. His hands trembled, horribly clammy all of a sudden. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck! _ He used his wrist to wipe the sweat off his forehead. It felt like something was crushing his ribs, and he couldn’t breathe. He was fucking panicking and— 

“Sapphire.” 

He twisted around face his mistress. Her expression was empty, eyes hard and lips set in a firm line. 

“Come here,” she beckoned. 

He threw the napkins on Lord Matthias’ lap. Sapphire didn’t care if it offended him to be abandoned in the mess someone else made. He didn’t care about anything when she looked so… so… He couldn’t tell what she was feeling. He couldn’t fucking read her. His previous masters were complicated men, but he had grown to understand them. Or at least, how they operated. The same couldn’t be said for her. She didn’t want him as a whore. She didn’t want him at all. 

Where else would he go if she threw him away? The king had grown tired of him. He had no use for him anymore. What if King Sanyr returned him to Malco? He bit the inside of his mouth until it split open, blood seeping onto his tongue. Sapphire dug his nails into his palms and knelt at his mistress’ feet. He would kiss her shoes if he had to, grab her ankles and beg, as long as he didn’t go back to him. 

As long as he didn’t go back to his first master, he would do anything he had to. His mistress was cold, indifferent to him at best, but she wasn’t Malco. 

“I gave you one responsibility. Fill up our glasses when they were empty.” She crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on her fists so her chin was at the same level as Sapphires. “Instead, you spilled an entire flagon on Matthias.” 

_ Only half _ , he wanted to beg.  _ Please, Mistress. It was only half a flagon.  _

“I’m sorry, My Lady,” he whined. “Please, I’m sorry. It was an accident! I’ll clean it up.” 

She drew her hand backward and set it flying into his face. 

The room resounded with the force of her slap. Sapphire flew away from her. He gasped, laying on his elbows and ass. She had sent him careening into the desk and his head smacked a sharp corner. His hands went to his cheek, where he slapped him, and the bump that was beginning to form on his head. 

His mistress stood. The woman in the flowing silk blouse and drawstring pants was gone, replaced by a looming monster in his Malco’s expensive cloak, then a blooming shadow in King Sanyr’s stately robes. He scrambled away from her as she stepped toward him, chest heaving. 

_ No, nononono. _

His eyes were playing with him, toying with him like the men who’d owned him did. And now she had become them. 

He could barely speak as his throat tightened. “Mistress, please, I—” 

“Quiet,” she snarled. “I’m not going to listen to your groveling, you can beg your heart out to the wind, for all I care..” 

Lord Matthias grimaced. “Vysehna, don’t be so hard on the boy. It’s just some wine. I can go clean it up. It’s not like these clothes were very clean in the first place, eh?” 

Sapphire returned to his knees, wincing at the throbbing in the back of his head. He was going to have a headache later. He grabbed Matthias’ shoes, putting his forehead to his toes. 

“My Lord, please. Forgive me, it was an accident! I’m so sorry!” 

Lord Matthias kicked his hands off, looking from Sapphire to her. “What the hell is this, Vysehna? You have him trained like a dog.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she grunted, regarding him with no pity. “He’s a slave, he should be well trained.” 

Sapphire nodded, playing apprehensively with his fingers. “She’s right, My Lord. It’s her right to discipline me.” 

Matthias stood from the stained chair and thrust his finger in his mistress’ face. “Discipline? It was just an accident. What the fuck happened to you, Vys? What did they do to you in that damn palace? You hit him over a simple mistake!” 

She looked close to snapping her friend’s hand in half. He was a head taller than her and at least double her weight, but she wasn’t cowed. He didn’t scare her in the slightest. Sapphire would be intimidated by someone so tall and brawny, and he was staring at his mistress like he wanted to maul her. If he put himself between the two of them, he wouldn’t slow him for even a second. 

“I deserved it!” he cried. “My Lady can punish me however she likes. Don’t speak to her like that!” 

“I’ll say whatever the hell I want to,” he retorted. “Your Lady doesn’t own me.” 

Sapphire turned to look at his mistress and winced. All her anger was turned to him, like she’d forgotten all of Lord Matthias’ faults and cared only about his. 

“Sapphire,” she said coldly. “Why the hell are you speaking that way to your superiors?” 

“I’m sorry, My Lady, I—”

“It is not your place to lecture my friends, whore.” She continued as if she didn’t hear him. “My uncle should have dismissed you sooner. You’re not fit for a king.”

His heart sank to his feet. He knelt on the wet rug, forehead on her feet. 

“Now that he has, I’m stuck with a disobedient slut for a servant. You’re not fit for me either.” 

He whimpered, clutching her ankles. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I didn’t mean to show disrespect.” 

She drew in a breath that sounded like a scoff, a sharp inhale that shot through his heart like the impact of a heavy cane through his body. The king used three canes, light, medium, and heavy, and he had sent them to his mistress when he gave Sapphire up. He wouldn’t be using them anymore. She had yet to test them out on him, but she was getting to that point. 

“Then I’ll have to teach you respect,” she hissed. “Get up. Leave the wine for a more competent slave to clean.” 

He scrambled to his feet, heart nearly pounding out of his chest. It wasn’t quick enough for her tastes and she wrenched him up by the collar. She dragged him out of the captain’s office, passing the very late captain as he entered the room. 

She paid him no mind, only pulling Sapphire harder. He struggled to keep up while bending down. He was a fair bit taller than her. 

Captain Rainier raised an eyebrow at Matthias as Vysehna and her boy left. Seeing one of his crew members drenched in wine wasn’t exactly uncommon, but Matthias looked like he’d just witnessed a public flogging. 

“What happened?” Rainier asked. 

He shrugged. “Fuck if I know.” 

  
  


Sapphire’s mistress slammed him into a corner of her bedroom. He yelped, curling into himself on the floor. She was a deceptively strong, and deceptively terrifying for a woman with such an unassuming image. 

“The next time you question the authority of my friends, I’ll tie you to the anchor and toss you over,” she spat. 

He choked on his own tongue as she approached him, towering over him like a bear. “I-I was only trying to defend you, My Lady.” 

“Do you think I need my  _ slave  _ to defend me?” she demanded. “If I relied on  _ you  _ to defend my authority, I wouldn’t be an emissary and you wouldn’t be a discarded court whore.” 

“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry.” He got back on his knees, forcing himself to leave the relative safety of the corner. He was trembling, and he hoped she didn’t see. “I… I should have known my place. It was wrong of me to make presumptions, and—“ 

“Shut the hell up.” She uncorked the bottle of wine she kept on her nightstand and downed a few gulps. Apparently, she hadn’t drunk enough in the captain’s office. “You talk too much. Maybe I should keep you gagged.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” He played nervously with his fingers, wishing he could bring his hands up to wipe his eyes before he cried. His masters had trained him to keep them in his lap. “If that’s what you think is right.” 

Her eyes flashed with madness and glee, a change from the sterile coldness he was used to. “Or maybe I should just cut your tongue out. That would be easier, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yes, Mistress.” He sniffled. 

She bent down and grabbed his face by the chin. He averted his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin. “Look at you, so dutiful now. Where was this obedience five minutes ago?” 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I was—I was out of line, My Lady. I won’t do it again, I swear. Just…” 

“Hmm? Just what?” 

Sapphire whimpered, defeated. “Just punish me, Mistress.” 

“Are you asking for punishment or demanding it?” 

He shook his head. “Neither, Mistress. I’m submitting to it. I-I would never ask or demand any of you, it’s not my place. I know my place. I promise I know it!”

She stepped away from him, to her armoire. She threw open the doors and dug past her clothes, fishing out a long box. It was an ebony wood case, ornately carved and glossed to gleaming. It was for a king because it belonged to a king once. A king who liked to cane his pet for any reason he saw fit, and sometimes no reason at all, because he didn’t need one. 

His mistress set the box on her bed and unlatched the cover. Three polished canes laid inside on the cushion. The heavy one was tinged with dried blood the king hadn’t bothered to clean,  _ his  _ blood. The light one looked untouched. She twirled her fingers in the air above them, tutting quietly to herself. 

She chose the medium cane, tapping it lightly against her palm to test it. Sapphire had plenty of experience with that one, although the king preferred the heavy, which could flay skin off within ten strokes and reach bone in a few hundred. His first master, the Baron Malco, used a long leather bullwhip instead. They were infinitely worse. The first time he misbehaved—calling himself his true name instead of Sapphire—he thought he was dying within ten lashes. 

The light cane was a joke, the medium a mercy, and the heavy a weapon. He was glad she chose mercy, whether she knew it or not. 

“Take your shirt off.” 

He tugged his tunic over his head, already breathing raggedly. Fear coursed through his blood, a familiar dread and anxiety. 

“Stand up. Hands on the wall.” 

He did as she ordered, planting his weight in his legs and arms. He shifted his feet apart a distance about his shoulder width. 

“Thirty strokes,” she said simply. “Ten for spilling the wine, twenty for being a mouthy bitch.” 

_ Crack!  _ The first came before he could even respond. It landed on the curve of his shoulder blade, branding a strip of hot fire into his skin and snapping past his skin, forcing his bones to absorb the impact. Only the first, and it was already excruciating. 

“One. Thank you, Mistress,” he choked out. 

_ Crack! Crack! Crack!  _

He arched his back. The trembling in his legs was getting worse. The cane bit into his back and he curled his toes. 

“F-Four, Mistress! Thank you.” 

She switched him, again, and again, and again. He could barely see the wall through his tears. They splattered on the floor unceremoniously when they became too heavy. 

“Th-Thank you, Mistress. Nine!”  _ Crack!  _ “T-Ten…”  _ Crack! _ “Eleven! Thank you, Mistress.” 

She scoffed. “Stop thanking me. I don’t have patience for that bullshit, slave. And stop counting. I’m punishing you for talking too much, have you forgotten?” 

“No, Mistress! I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” 

The lashes fell on his back, one after the other. He wanted something to bite down on, but there was nothing but his bottom lip. He sank his teeth into it as she maintained her relentless pace. His other masters had given him a few seconds to recover before moving on to the next stroke, believing the pain would be worse if he didn’t know when the cane would land. Somehow, this was worse. Constant pain, without a moment to catch his breath. 

He began to shriek sharply like a dying animal, each exhale a shuddering whimper. He continued to count in his head.  _ Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!  _ Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

Thirty. It was over. It had to be over. 

She kept going. He looked back at her at thirty-six, about to tell her it was over, she had gone past what she promised The thirty-seventh hit harder, landed on his ass. And he knew it was intentional. 

“Didn’t my uncle teach you not to make eye contact with your owners?” she jeered. “I don’t give a damn how nice those pretty blue eyes are—don’t fucking look at me, slut.” 

“Y-Yes, Mistress!” he sobbed, slamming his hand into the wall, like that would ease his pain. He felt the blood dripping down his back, felt the sea air in his open wounds. 

She lashed him over his wounds, angling the cane sideways to hit more than one. He keened deep in his throat, a throttled wail. 

He lost track at fifty. Sweat seeped from every inch of his skin, stinging the raised bumps and broken skin on his back. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore, collapsing to his knees. 

“Good boy,” she cooed from behind him. He didn’t have to look at her to see her sadistic smile. He was too familiar with those. His mistress rounded where he stood, putting herself between him and the wall. “I think you deserve a reward.” 

His mind sputtered to a halt. “What?” 

“A reward,” she repeated slowly, like she was explaining something to a stupid dog. She unlaced the front of her pants. “When I punished the servants in their palace, they screamed after twenty. You were quiet during your punishment and you learned your lesson. That’s grounds for a reward, isn’t it?” 

She slid her pants off, tossing them across her room. Sapphire began trembling.  _ No, nononono, I don’t want this.  _ But nobody gave damn what he wanted. Nobody was supposed to. He was a slave, to be used however his mistress please. 

She hooked her thumbs on the hem of her panties, yanking them past her ankles and abandoning them on the floor. She parted her legs, slinging one over his shoulder. Her hands went to his head, pulling his face into her cunt by his hair. 

“A fitting reward for a whore,” she muttered, voice going soft as Sapphire’s slut instincts took over. “Well, you’re useful for something, at least.” 

“Thank you, Mistress,” he mumbled into her. 

He wasn’t used to serving women, and that was obvious from how petrified he was. When Malco or the king demanded something of him, he would force himself to do it. He had no fucking clue how to do this. None of the ladies in the palace had touched him, it was only the men. The men who bit at him like dogs, who mounted him and fucked him until he bled. His mistress was not a simple dog. She was something else entirely. A hawk, shrewd and cold. 

Sapphire ran his tongue along her slit and his mistress panted above him. He took that as encouragement to slip it in. Her knuckles went white in his black hair, tugging painfully. She tasted almost sweet. 

“Oooh, good boy,” she moaned. “You’ve never been with a woman before, have you?” 

He lifted his face back. His mouth was glistening. She was so wet after caning him, a sadist like the others. He was an idiot to think she would be different, she would be  _ indifferent  _ to him. “N-No, Mistress.” 

She rutted her crotch against him, drawing him back in. “I can tell. You’re sloppy. But you have a whore’s tongue. A good tongue.” Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling and she shuddered.

She sucked in a breath as he found her clit. He was inexperienced with a woman’s body, but not entirely lost. He was familiar with their anatomy, at least.

“Yes, Sapphire,” his mistress gasped. “Right there. Good boy.” 

She grabbed him again and forced him to kiss her. He held the back of her thighs to steady himself. He flicked his tongue over her folds before burying it as far inside her as it could go. 

“Fuck,” she groaned. “ _ Fuck _ , Sapphire.” 

He was too slow for her, too hesitant. She tightened her grip on his long hair until he yelped and fucked herself on his tongue, like he wasn’t there at all. He could barely keep with her pace as she thrust into him, urging him on. Sapphire could hardly breathe as he licked her, desperate to please her before she punished him again. The angry lines on his back dripped blood on the floor, a reminder of what a failure he was. 

Her legs began to tremble and he recognized she was close. He was a good enough whore to know that, even if he was inexperienced with women. All he could do was whimper while she moaned louder and louder. Her yanks on his scalp were murderous. 

“Fuck, I’m about to cum, little whore,” she groaned. He had encountered men who were loud moaners but spoke rarely while they used him. She was like those men. 

Sapphire’s back throbbed and bled because of her, his scalp screaming against her fingers. His pain pushed her over the edge. Her legs convulsed around him, locking him where he knelt. She leaned against the wall, almost unable to hold herself upright as her orgasm hit her. It shuddered through her as she cramped up. It seemed to last for ages, and then the aftershocks came. She growled through them, refusing to let him go until her body was numb. 

He fell on the floor as she pushed him back. His lips shone with her fluid, his eyes leaked tears, his back dripped blood, and worst of all, his cock strained against his cock. He hated himself. He fucking hated himself for being a wet and sloppy mess, and a desperate one too. 

She stepped toward him, toeing off her shoes and discarding the pants bunched around her ankles. She wrestled off her shirt and Sapphire wanted to scream. She wasn’t done. She wasn’t done using him. 

She placed her foot between her legs. He sucked in a breath, afraid she would kick him. No one paid attention to his cock in the palace, and he wasn’t allowed to touch it. It was horribly sensitive and he squirmed when she brushed her toes over the bulge in his pants. 

“Strip,” she ordered. 

He hesitated, mind blanking. 

“Strip, or I’ll cane you again,” she hissed. 

Sapphire obeyed, fumbling with his pants. They got caught on his shoes, which he had forgotten to remove first. Fuck. His mistress chuckled while he struggled to get them off. She licked her lips as she scanned his bare legs, like she was about to devour him. His heart clenched and withered. He wasn’t afraid of what his masters would do to him after a few years with him. He knew all their tricks. This mistress was a stranger to him. He didn’t know what to expect, what to prepare for. He didn’t know how to please her. 

He liked women, or at least, his cock did. So why was he so fucking terrified? Why couldn’t he be a good pet, a good toy, a good slave? 

His shirt came off, and she set upon him, pulling him up to his feet. She pressed her mouth to his and kissed him. Fuck. If he thought his tongue was good, her’s was… was… he couldn’t think anymore, because his fingers were around his cock, tugging hard. She was rough with it, like it was just a toy. He writhed, gasping into her mouth. She stroked him until he was fully hard and about to beg. 

He thought he hated this. Hated  _ anyone _ touching him, much less there. Sapphire had never wanted something he hated so much. 

She brushed her thumbs over his nipples. He closed his eyes and shivered. They firmed up, even more sensitive than his cock. 

Fuck, he didn’t want this… he didn’t want it… he didn’t. But he needed it. He needed to be touched, bent over and fucked. He was a whore. That was his place, that was his purpose. He needed  _ her _ . He needed her to use him. They were halfway through their ten-week voyage, and she had forbidden him to be a whore for the past five weeks. Five weeks of emptiness, he was so lost. What was he if he wasn’t a slut? Nothing. He was the dirt on her shoes. He sagged in relief to be allowed to serve, the only way he knew how. 

She pushed him onto the bed. He laid on his back, staining her sheets red. The king would have caned him for ruining his bed, but his mistress didn’t seem to care. She climbed on top of him, placing his cock between her legs, the tip of it sliding against her slit. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ . 

She grinned, swaying her hips forwards and backwards. He whined at the friction, but it wasn’t enough. His masters liked teasing him. They liked working him into a tight bundle of nerves, making him desperate. She didn’t bother with teasing, sinking down on his cock right away. He arched his back at the feeling. Half humiliation, half pleasure. She placed one palm on his chest and another over his neck and began to ride him. 

Sapphire was always the one to ride his masters. That’s what his slutty little hole was for. This was different, but his position was the same. He was under her, submissive to her every whim. Her warm body around his cock, her fiery red hair curling over her beautiful breasts. He understood why kings went to war for a beautiful woman, why queens killed each other over a pretty man. 

She slammed herself down on him, and suddenly, any pleasure evaporated. Her hand wrapped tight around his neck. He gripped the sheets to stop himself from clawing at his throat for air. It took all his self-restraint not to buck her off, not that he could, anyway. He was thin and weak, and his lady overpowered him easily. 

“You’re a pretty little thing, huh?” She ran her tongue over her teeth and sneered. 

She put all her weight on his throat. He gasped for breath, but she didn’t allow him any mercy. She rode him harder, one hand on his chest and the other choking him. She arched her back, taking him deeper, and his eyes brimmed with tears of humiliation as the bed began to creak. He wondered if the entire ship could hear her, what she was doing to him. With his previous masters, at least he had the dignity of privacy. 

She sank to the base of his cock and paused. He squirmed as she bent down to lick one nipple and pinch the other with her free hand. Her tongue was rough on his skin as she flicked the tip of it over his nipple until it hardened. She moved to the other, delighting in how sensitive her boy was. He tried to cry out, writhe away from her, but he could only feel the burning in his lungs. 

She bent down so her chest was flush with his, finally releasing her grip on his throat. Before he could take a breath, she pressed her mouth to his. He whimpered into her as she forced her tongue between his lips. She held the sides of his face and kept him there. A piercing ring started in his ears and he started sputtering. 

“What’s wrong, hm?” She let him go, knowing exactly what’s wrong. He heaved in lungfuls of air. 

“Please, no more,” he begged brokenly. He was used to begging for mercy even though he knew his masters wouldn’t grant him any. But maybe this master would be kind. Maybe if he pleaded and weeped and screamed she would be gentle. If he promised to pleasure her in other ways, then maybe—

Her slap resounded through the room, shaking the thoughts from his head and burning into his cheek. “Give me orders again, and I’ll cane you into ribbons and feed you to the cats, bitch.” 

He leaned his head back on the pillow and sobbed as she rutted against her. She was just like the others. He let her do whatever she wanted to him. He didn’t stop her. He couldn’t do anything but lay there as she claimed him in the worst way imaginable. Her hand was back around her throat, her fingers back to twisting his nipples. She angled his cock to drive him deeper into herself and fucked him faster, her hips snapping into him in a relentless rhythm.

He ignored the screaming of his lungs, the aching of his nipples, the unbearable throbbing of his cock as his body reacted to the way his mistress used him. He ignored the screaming of his lungs, the aching of his nipples, the unbearable throbbing of his cock as his body reacted to the way his mistress used him. 

“Mistress,” he wheezed. “M-May I cum?” 

“No,” she snarled. 

Groaning, Sapphire threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to push his mind away, away from the pain in his chest, away from the bruning, aching pleasure building in his groin. His mistress drove her nails through his flesh, making him keen in pain. Vysehna only cackled, grinding against him, caring about nothing but her pleasure and his suffering. 

Tears welled, and fell down his cheek. Sapphire clutched at the sheets, blinking his eyes open to the ceiling. Vysehna shifted, wonderfully tight and warm around his cock, and Sapphire nearly howled in frustration. It was all he could to grit his teeth and hold on. If he came without permission, who knew what she would do to him. If he came  _ in  _ her, she may very well kill him. 

She ground against him, the mattress creaking, the headboard slamming into the wall. Growling, grunting. Like a beast, taking her prey. So loud. His face flushed a furious bright red, as he realized without a doubt that everyone in the immediate vicinity knew what they were up to. 

There was a hand on his chin, nails like talons scraping and clawing at his delicate skin. 

“Look at me Whore,” hissed Vysehna. He obeyed, lifting his gaze to her face. Not her eyes, he knew better. 

There was something about the scene, about the sweat gleaming on her skin, beading down and between her breast and thighs, that made his blood go hot.

Panic spearing through him, Sapphire cried, “M-Mistress!” But then Vysehna threw her head back and groaned, her body going clenching around him as she came a second time. Desperate, Sapphire had to knock his skull on the headboard, only the resulting stars and splintering pain enough to stave off his own orgasm. 

For a moment, there was only the sound of their panting, rasping breaths, his mistress trembling on top of him. More tears blurred his eyes, threatening to spill over. He refused to let it happen, biting his lip until more blood bloomed on his tongue. Finally, Vysehna climbed off of him. She flicked her hair over her shoulder, smirking softly as she looked at his cock, still erect and near the edge. He fought the urge to shy away, to cover himself up. He had been leered at before, yes, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that… that made him want to curl in on himself. Hide. Disappear. 

_ Did I do it wrong?  _

_ Was it bad? _

_ Was I bad? _

Finally, she snorted, gave his cock a light smack that had him flinching, turning bright crimson as his shame bobbed against his stomach. 

“Poor little whore,” Vysehna crooned. She turned, plucking the cane from where she’d left it on the floor, “Put that away, and go get me a rag to clean up with.”

It took his mind a second to work. To move through the sluggish disappointment as his climax grew further and further away. 

Then, she shot him a glare over his shoulder, “Didn’t you hear me?” That was all it took for Sapphire to scramble out of bed, clambering desperately for his discarded trousers. Behind him, Vysehna made a noise of disgust. “Look what you did to my sheets!”

Cold dread curling through him, Sapphire twisted to see the mess of blood he’d left on the crisp white linens. The look Vysehna shot him was scathing. Enough so that he cringed backward, knocking into the wall hard enough that his lashes screamed in pain. A plea sat on his tongue, but he didn’t dare speak lest he make things so much worse. She didn’t come for him, however. All his mistress did was roll her eyes, and gather her own clothes from the floor. 

“Rag first,” she said bitterly, “Then you better fix that.”

“Y-Yes Mistress,” he whispered. 

A beat.

Another.

“Now!” she barked. Sapphire barely had enough sense not to catch his cock in the ties, before he bolted out to do as she commanded.


End file.
